Fake Game (The System #3)

Chapter Forty-Eight

FORTY-EIGHT

JACKSON

M y knee taps up and down as I try to focus on the game at hand. I’m driving in fourth place with Aleksander somehow making a rogue comeback in fifth, tailing my ass like a dog sniffing out a bone.

But my attention keeps slipping because Paige’s phone rang twenty minutes ago and she flew out onto the rooftop patio like her house was on fire. She said they were closing in, that there had been some developments overnight, but that we still shouldn’t get our hopes up too high.

“You did not just banana peel me.” Phoebe glares at her younger brother, who just laughs maniacally.

“Tough luck, sis.”

The patio door slams open, and we all turn around to stare as Paige runs inside.

“We got him.”

Hope coils in my chest. “Really?”

“Yes.” She smiles as she snatches her purse from the island. Her heels clack on the tiles as she beelines for the elevator. “I have to go meet with the prosecutor and then head to the airport. He was in Wyoming.” She presses on the elevator panel, and the doors open.

“How’d he slip up?” Parker calls out.

“He didn’t; it was an anonymous tip. I’ll call later,” she shouts back as the doors close.

The boys and I turn to stare at the woman who never once flinched during that exchange and has proceeded to take first place in the round.

“What?” Phoebe doesn’t take her eyes off the screen.

“Anonymous tip?” The insinuation in Parker’s voice is clear.

“It wasn’t me.”

“Okay. Then you know who it was.”

She crosses the finish line and looks over at us, raising a brow. “Do you really want me to tell you?”

“No. I’d rather not get caught up in your weird SIS shit.”

She scoffs. “If I were using the agencies, it wouldn’t be considered illegal, now would it?”

“Stop.” Parker places his hands over his ears. “I won’t be implicated in your activities.”

“You’re the one who asked in the first place.”

I toss my controller on the coffee table and make a beeline for my bedroom. The duffle bag that’s been sitting on my dresser for the last two weeks shines at me like a beacon. I quickly check it over, making sure my passport is in place before slinging it over my shoulder and grabbing a pair of sneakers from my wall.

Aleks waits for me in the hallway, following me as I head to the elevator alcove and sit on the footstool to slip my shoes on. He hits the button for me and leans against the wall.

“What’s the plan?”

“I’ll catch the first flight out, find her, and bring her home.”

“And if she doesn’t want to come?”

“Then I’ll wait with her until she’s ready.”

“Good luck, brother.” He claps me on the back.